Atem stood very still and said, plainly, "Alright, my friend. It is time."
His voice barely echoed. The cave seemed to hold its breath.
He closed his eyes and spoke into his own mind. "Oracle of Eternity — start the absorption."
For an instant there was only silence inside him. Then the Oracle answered, calm and close like a whisper at his ear.
<
As soon as the Oracle spoke, something woke inside Atem. Millennium Soul — that deep part of him that knew spirits and echoes — flared up like a sun. Warmth spread from his chest outward. It was alive and loud.
At first it felt like a hand running along his ribs. Then Veldora's presence hit him all at once — not as a shape, but as a flood of memory and sound and wind. Atem heard the dragon's voice inside his head, big and bright.
"Do it! Take me! I want to see the inside of your head!" Veldora shouted, as excited as a child.
Atem didn't answer out loud. He breathed slow. He felt the first thread of Veldora slip into him like a small bright fish. It brushed his mind and then there was pain.
Not a cut. It was deeper, like the whole of his inside being tightened, stretched, and then filled with new space. His thoughts broke into pieces and reknit. His chest burned. He gasped and a sound left him — half a shout, half a prayer.
He heard the Oracle again, close and plain.
<
Atem ground his teeth and clutched at his robes. The feeling kept changing. Sometimes it was a hot, rushing wind in his veins. Sometimes it was like cold lightning under his skin. Pictures flashed in his mind: white water smashing rocks, a line of islands he had seen in Veldora's memory, the roar a dragon makes when it wants the sky. Each picture hit him like an echo.
He called back without moving his lips. "What is happening? Is this the dragon?"
<
Veldora's voice came softer now, like someone laughing while they sigh. "You're brave, little Pharaoh. Don't worry — it's fun. Taste the wind."
The cave grew bright. At first it was a glow, then it was a white that stung the eyes. Atem felt time slow as if each second lengthened into many breaths. The light felt alive; it moved through him like a river of color. It hurt and it healed at once.
His body shook. Every small thing about him changed: the way his hands trembled, the tightness in his throat, the slow roll of power under his skin. He could hear the small heartbeats of the spirits already in his Deck, a quiet chorus he had never felt before.
When the brightest part passed, Atem fell to his knees. He was sweating. His clothes clung to him. The cave's light faded down to a soft blue glow. He looked at his hands like he had never seen them before.
His fingers had faint lines running under the skin, like tiny rivers of light. He flexed them and felt a new strength there — not just muscle, but something deeper. He felt heavier and clearer at the same time, like a man who had woken after learning a long, hard truth.
The Oracle's voice came again, steady and kind.
<
Atem let out a long breath. He felt full and tired. His chest hummed where the storm-scale sat warm against his skin. Far away, Veldora's voice — inside him now — hummed like a small, excited storm.
"Cozy! This is fun. Tell me stories while you sleep."
Atem managed a tired smile. He touched his hand to his heart and felt the new, slow thunder there.
"Rest," he said quietly, more to himself than anyone. "We will do this right."
Atem wiped the sweat from his brow. His body still hummed with the storm that now lived inside him, but he knew he couldn't wield it yet. The power was too raw, too heavy. He needed time.
He took a deep breath and spoke inwardly. Oracle… tell me. How many days of rest do I need before I can truly access Veldora's essence?
The Oracle's voice answered instantly, calm as always.
<
Atem frowned slightly, thoughtful. Five days? Can I even sleep for that long?
The Oracle replied without hesitation.
<
Atem closed his eyes for a moment, weighing the choice. Outside this cave was an unknown world filled with demon lords, monsters, and challenges he hadn't even imagined yet. If he wanted to stand against them, he couldn't afford recklessness. He had to be at his best.
"Very well," Atem said at last, his voice calm but decisive. "Do it."
For a few seconds nothing happened. Then a deep warmth spread through him, starting at his chest and moving outward like a blanket being laid gently over his body. His limbs grew heavy, his eyelids harder to keep open. His breathing slowed.
The Oracle's voice was the last thing he heard.
<
And then Atem fell into complete darkness.
---
The cave grew silent, the air thick with the fading echo of his aura. For a long moment there was no movement. Then, from the glowing circle of the Spirit Deck, a figure appeared—tall, robed, staff in hand.
The Dark Magician stood at Atem's side. His sharp eyes scanned the cave, the gems in his staff glowing faintly. He looked down at Atem's resting form and gave a small, respectful nod.
No words were spoken, but his presence said everything: I will protect you, my master. No harm shall reach you in this sleep.
The shadows shifted, the cave's quiet sounds echoing faintly. Water dripped in the distance. The magicules in the air swirled lazily, brushing against the Dark Magician's robe but never daring to disturb Atem.
For the first time since arriving in this world, Atem surrendered fully—not to an opponent, not to despair, but to the trust he placed in his Oracle and the spirits bound to his heart. As he slept, the dragon within him rumbled softly, and the guardian beside him stood like a wall of midnight, unyielding.
The Pharaoh slept, and the world outside waited.